Crick

Used to be the only problems that kept me from writing when I sat down were enough time, writers block, self-confidence or attention starved kitties.

Now it's a crick in the neck.

My almost-fifty-year-old body does not want to sit anywhere longer than 10 minutes that isn't ‘indently’ familiar. With my new determination to write within the available time I have, I realized I had to be a lot more mobile. I've got notebooks with pens attached and mini-tape recorders for riding in the car. I also use my computer like the laptop it was designed to be and carry it around the house with me. What a concept!

So I plug it in above the toaster and open it on the kitchen counter to type notes while I'm doing other chores (not making toast). Oh, but this is not the angle my neck likes to be held in!

“HEY!” It says to me if I tilt it the wrong way for a few extra minutes. Of course my almost-fifty-year-old eyes have to peer through the half inch circumference of my tri-focals to find which ‘tri’ will provide ‘focal’ whilst my head scans up and down.

I plop my laptop on the kitchen table and sit to hammer out a few lines of thought for a half hour and “TWEEEEK!” my hips tell me. This is not the office chair!! Why aren't my legs in the right place??

I set up my card table in the living room, but had to go through two chairs and four variations of pillow arrangements and a hassock to make this body happy for the actual hours I spend there.

The other night DP made a kind suggestion to place my card table in a certain spot over one of our dog crates, so I could just pull up a chair and write and not have to set it up and break it down each time. I stared at her blankly; I can't start all over again in a new spot, my body screamed at me.

"I...I...I need a hassock," I finally muttered walking away, shaking my head.

She never spoke of it again.

Rotund

Obese is what my ex used to call me. She'd read in a magazine how to measure your height and weight to determine your body mass and declared that I was obese. Apparently this is technically accurate. I'm certainly not a thin almost-fifty-year-old woman, but, at all of 5'3" I am short and likely getting shorter. In my humble estimation since I've never seen the "2" at the front of the three digits of the scale when I step on it, I'm okay - even though I am rotund.

Every time I've considered my weight a problem and sought to lose some of it, I've only gained it back, plus more. If I don't consider myself as having a weight problem and don't struggle with it, I at least stay about the same. I know what needs to be done. Since I’m pretty healthy all I need to do is stop eating as much and move more (using the work “exercise” would be like using the word “diet”).

It could be that simple...but food has aways been my reward.

I cannot seem to get passed that for long periods of time. For my 49^th birthday my gifts included a mouth watering fried food luncheon from Augusta’s premier take-out joint “Red Barn” from the girls at work, a delectable and highly anticipated meal at “Olive Garden” from my partner (referred to as DP for Domestic Partner) which included my favorite dessert tiramisu, and breakfast from my step-daughter at the "Maine Diner.” I won’t even go into all the treats I threw in the grocery cart because it was my birthday week.

Now that birthday week is over, my plan is to cut back on consumption and dance around the house more thanks to my new Loreena McKennitt CD “The Wind that Shakes the Barley” (thanks DP!!!).

Well, at least until Thanksgiving. 

Rescue Me

Saying yes equals leaving your comfort zone, taking risks and getting involved.

Monday I spotted a seagull standing in the still-matted-from-winter grass field behind our building at work. A flock of gulls is not as unusual as you might think in Augusta, Maine, but this particular gull was alone and as I continued to glance out the window at it every 15 minutes or so, I noticed it wasn't moving much, though its head was held high and he was looking around. On one glance I noticed him hobbling to a patch of mud spattered snow with one wing hanging low. He plunged his beak into the snow a couple of times presumably to get some water. My heart sunk at the sight.

Most everyone has experienced a bird slamming into their picture window. It usually sits for a moment or two at most, shakes off and then takes off. I watched this gull hop, shake, hop, shake, then sit for a long period. It wasn't going anywhere with what I thought was a broken wing. My work garnered my attention and after an hour or so I noticed the gull had hopped next to a high clump of dried grass. To its right were two crows bopping and dipping at something on the ground nearby. I watched intently as the gull hunkered down into the grass, but the crows apparently did not see him. I thought it might have died, but after the crows flew off, the gull lifted his head from the grass clump to survey his surroundings.

In the past I might have let nature take its course. Sure I'd feel guilty, but I'd tell myself that humans can't save every injured animal. This time I heard myself say, if this was my year of saying yes, wouldn't I like to help this gull?

Yes.

My first thought was food. I needed to feed him. I did what any good seagull mother would do; I went through the kitchen trash and found some french fries thrown out that morning. With my little navy blue flats on my feet, I slopped through the half frozen mud and ice to toss the food near him. He hopped away a few steps and I went back to my warm office to watch and wait. Nothing. He either hadn't seen it or didn't want it.

Now, how much did I want to get involved?

Since I first saw the gull that morning, the memory of DP and I taking an injured bat to a bat rescue had been running through my mind. So...I called DP. After a few calls back and forth between DP, me and a local bird rescue, we had a plan.

DP arrived at my work within 30 minutes. We herded the gull away from the road, closer to the building then I tossed a blanket over him. DP gingerly picked him up and placed him in a cardboard box as we were instructed to do. We loaded the box in the back of our pick-up and got on the road to Freedom, Maine and Avian Haven. A half hour later the boxed gull was handed off to kind-hearted gentleman with a pony-tail and cowboy hat. At Avian Haven, Tilty (the name we gave him) will be given free medical care. I can call them in a couple of days to find out his progress.

That’s what I call yes.

Life Is Complete!

I have been on a search for something. As I thought more and more about it, it became the answer.  It was something I had to have. At first I thought I could buy it on the cheap, but it was not to be found at Goodwill or Big Lots. The longer I didn’t have it, the more important it became. I couldn’t do anything more until I had it. So on payday I went to Walmart determined to bring it home. Walking down the designated aisle I encountered my first specimen. It was too big. Fine tuning my search I found the next likely candidate, but it was too long. When I located the item I had pictured in my mind, it was the right size, but it was the wrong color and it was hard where I expected it to be soft. Thinking I could overlook these blemishes I pulled the item off the shelf, but it was enormously heavy and that was the third strike. I almost panicked. Was this not going to be the answer after all? I couldn’t find it at Goodwill or Big Lots, and now this?

What should I do?

 K-Mart. I was not going to be so easily defeated. I packed up my groceries and headed over to K-Mart.

Tucked away on the dusty bottom shelf, I found only two. One had half the packaging missing, the other had paint scraped off the edge. I pulled out half packaged one and lifted it. I could manage that, I thought. It was the right size, the right color and it was soft where I expected. It was just like the ones we had growing up. This was it. I hauled it to the front, made my purchase for $5 more than I intended to spend and brought it home.

With the remaining packaging removed I gave it a quick wash down with Lysol Kitchen Disinfectant spray and set it up in the middle of our living room in front of the wood stove. I was elated and glowing with satisfaction until I took a deep breath then started laughing at myself and the expectation I had placed in this “thing”. With no one but the cats to hear me I said out loud, “Now, my life is complete!” Now I will be able to sit down and write my book, my memoir, my blog and become a famous author!  All because of this…

A card table. 

Well I am sitting at it right now and writing this. Of course I had to bring all my computer equipment out of my office first.

Connections

I hadn’t used my opportunities to reach out and connect to people to make friends since college. Coming out a lesbian in suburban New England contributed to that. I limited friends because I wanted to limit their questions about my personal life. Do you have a boyfriend? Are you married?  Do you have children? I also limited topics of discussion or I didn't bring up any topics at all. I became a good listener. Some subjects slide into the personal realm I felt I couldn't share. It's an art form I know many LGBT people have learned.

My first long term relationship was unhealthy for many reasons, but mostly because my partner was abnormally dependent on me. Extraneous friendships from wherever I worked, could not extend beyond 5:00. She would be so hurt if I needed anyone beyond her. As if I was telling her she wasn’t good enough to be everything to me, as she constantly told me I was for her. So I developed a pattern of behavior to protect her and to protect anyone attempting to befriend me. If ever I let your friendship fade away, this was my reasoning. Unfortunately this also included members of my family.

When that relationship ended after 23 years, I made a fresh start. I recognized I didn’t have those “old friend” type connections. I had only my new relationship and I did not want her to have the burden of being my everything. So I began with my family. The ones who stood back and let me be distant, let me "do my own thing" and eventually stopped inviting me. I reconnected with them immediately and that’s been truly nurturing. I’m especially grateful to have been back in my mother’s life when she was diagnosed with lung cancer, attempted a recovery, but eventually passed away.

Recently I have found myself sliding back into those old patterns of “no, I can’t; I’ve got to do this,” or “it’s too expensive, I can’t go there (which was never the real reason I couldn’t go),” or “this person is getting too personal.” I recognize my behavior and realize these are people trying to form connections with me, connections I need.

It’s time to say yes.

365 Days Until I'm 50

This body I was born into will be 50 years old in 365 days. Yes. Today (March 26, 2011) is my 49th birthday. To celebrate, I'm beginning this new blog, because I've put it off long enough.

Here is where I thought I'd write a list of things you should know about me, but then I realized that would take all the fun out of our mutual discovery. I'd be confining myself to a bunch of concepts, inviting preconceived judgments and perhaps expectations which I'm sure to disappoint.

I'd like to keep the option open to change.

During my 49th year I have decided to say yes. Yes to any number of invitations, ideas, friendships, and opportunities that in the past I would have said no to. Yes to its time to start a blog. It is time to make connections and expand my world. I’m a bit frightened but terribly excited.

Today my expectation is post every day. This is a challenge that my friend and writing coach has invited me to take. She has taken that same challenge from her writing coach and you can find her new daily blog here. I'll also put the link in my blog roll.

Today I also expect the nature of this blog will be about spirituality, aging (including that most lofty goal of menopause), women, a writing life, my past experiences and how they affect my current behavior, living with 12 pets and a whole lot more I have yet to think up. I reserve the right to rant on occasion, but I pledge to you (and me) that I will strive for understanding, acceptance, surrender and peace.

I will strive to be brief with an occasional longer essay so you can read my post, comment or not and go about your business.

I’m likely to be emotional - high and low. That’s just a warning for you.

I invite your comments, observations, and questions. I also invite you to become a regular follower. Please come back tomorrow.

Won’t this be fun?

~Lisa